Explanations
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Christian and Leslie bring his family in on their conundrum before returning to Fantasy Island and learning more than they had ever expected to know about Roarke. Follows 'Crisis'
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_I didn't expect to finish this story so quickly after the last one, but I did, so here it is. For a while I'm going to try to get back into regular FI-style stories. Once I post this first chapter I'm going to pop in a Season 3 DVD and see if I can get a few ideas. I still have some unused fantasy ideas floating around, so I think it'll be a good time to work with those. Meantime, enjoy..._

* * *

§ § § - April 26, 2009

Karina and Susanna were thrilled about their new baby sister; Tobias stuck out his lower lip in disappointment. "I wanted a brother," he muttered. "Daddy, can you and Mommy have another baby so I can have a brother? It's not fair I'm the only boy."

"You should talk to Aunt Anna-Laura," Christian told him. "When I was growing up, she was the only girl, so she knows how you feel. I wanted to come here and tell you about your new sister, but I'm going back to the hospital to stay with your mother, so that if she wakes up, she won't be all alone in the hospital."

"Where do we sleep?" Susanna asked.

"You three will be going to your cousin Gerhard's house so you can play with Matti and Toria," Christian said.

"Oh good...someplace there's another boy," said Tobias, a little mollified. "What's the baby's name again?"

"Anastasia," Christian pronounced it slowly.

"Can we go to the hospital with you? Just to see Mommy and An...Annie-stah-see?" asked Susanna hopefully, tripping over her baby sister's name.

Christian laughed and tousled her hair. "I wish I could take you, but rules at the hospital say you have to be at least thirteen before you can go visit, and you three aren't even five yet. But look here, I did this for you before I came out." He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, found the photo he had taken of a sleeping Anastasia in her hospital crib, and showed it to the triplets. They stared at it with great interest.

"She looks like a tomato," Tobias said eventually.

"How come she's so red?" Susanna asked.

"Most babies are red when they're first born," said Christian, chuckling at his children's reactions. "What do you think, Karina?"

"What's her name again?" Karina asked, squinting at the photo.

Christian shook his head a little, grinning. "Anastasia."

"No, I mean her whole name. Like my name's Karina Skye," his daughter clarified.

"Ah, I see. Her full name will be Anastasia Gabriella Julia Martina. Gabriella is for your cousin who died last year. Julia and Martina are the names of my grandmothers."

"How come she has more names than me?" Karina asked, pouting.

Unable to help himself, Christian burst into laughter; when he saw Karina's offended look, he pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry, _lillan min,_ I didn't mean to laugh, but when you were born, there were so many of you, there weren't enough names to go around." He winked at her, and she began to giggle, climbing into his lap to hug him back.

"Hey...Daddy..." Tobias began tugging at Christian's sweater sleeve. "Now that the baby's here, when do we get to go home? I like it here, but I miss Grandfather."

"And we have to show Annie-stah-see to Grandfather," Susanna agreed.

Before Christian could comment on that, someone tapped on the door and a moment later, Anna-Kristina stuck her head in. _"Hallå då,_ Uncle Christian—they said you came back here with the others."

"So I did. What are you doing here?" he asked with interest.

"Stina!" Susanna yelled excitedly at her cousin. "We got a new baby sister!"

"I heard about it!" Anna-Kristina said with a grin, coming in to sit down beside Christian. "Did your pappa take a photo of her for you?"

"Yeah, wanna see it?" Susanna neatly twitched the phone out of Christian's hand before he realized what she was about, and gave it to Anna-Kristina, who gave her uncle an apologetic look and examined the picture.

"She's a little sweetheart," Anna-Kristina said, handing Christian's phone back. "So when do they leave the hospital?"

"I think Leslie will come home tomorrow," Christian said. "I'm going back to stay in her hospital room with her, so I'll bring her back myself. Anastasia's another matter; they've asked to keep her for about two weeks, so we'll be here at least long enough to celebrate Leslie's birthday here."

She nodded. "I was going to ask when you thought you'd be leaving, now that the little one's here. Anastasia." She shot him a look of mock reproof. "You should tell Leslie for me that she stole the name I wanted to use in case I ever gave birth to my own little girl."

"You should have chosen it for Natalia then," Christian volleyed, hiking a brow. "I was told Louisa considered the name for Katta as well. Apparently it was popular enough to be in the running but not to be a final choice. It's funny you should ask about our travel timetable. These three here were just informing me we need to introduce Anastasia to her grandfather. No doubt Leslie would agree with them."

Anna-Kristina nodded. "Well, if you're going back to sleep in the hospital tonight, what about the triplets?"

"We're going to Gerhard and Liselotta's house so we can play with Matti and Toria," said Karina. "We're gonna have fun."

"I think you will too. Actually, I'm planning to visit too, and Natalia's with me, so you can play with her for a while as well. Congratulations on Anastasia, Uncle Christian." She smiled, arose and left the room.

Christian put a few things in a tote bag he found among the triplets' things, and commandeered a castle sedan to return to the hospital on his own. Leslie was still asleep, so he left the bag on the cot that had been set up for him and returned downtown to browse a bookstore for some reading material, then had a meal at the café where he had so often eaten when he lived in the city. By this time there was a third generation of Dannegårds involved in the café's operation, and he cheerfully acknowledged the introductions before Lukas Dannegård inquired, "Is there some reason you've come here, Your Highness?"

"Haven't you heard?" Christian said playfully. "The press leaped on it not two hours ago. Leslie and I have a new daughter."

He accepted their congratulations, filled them in on the details, and was finally left in peace to enjoy his meal. Sleeping at the hospital was a non-event, as Leslie was still out when he got back and slept through the night. However, she was awake before he was, and smiled at him when he lifted his head to check on her. "Hi, my love."

"Good morning, my Rose," he replied, smiling back. "I trust you slept well."

"I sure feel a lot better," she said, and his smile became a grin. "Gosh, such service—they brought you an actual bed to sleep on! R.H.I.P., I see."

"R.H.I.P.?" he repeated blankly, swinging his feet off the cot and settling on the side of her bed to gather her hands into his.

"Rank hath its privileges," she explained, grinning at him. "I'm glad you stayed here. Did you sleep okay?"

"Fine," said Christian. "Much better than in that wicker chair when the triplets were born. Speaking of whom—they've informed me that it's imperative we take Anastasia home to introduce her to your father. So I suppose the question is when we plan to depart; I know we'll be here for your birthday, because of the hospital's timetable on Anastasia's release, but after that I presume the issue is up to Dr. Salomonsson."

Leslie nodded. "That makes sense. What'd the kids think of Anastasia?"

"Tobias was disappointed that she wasn't a boy, but he perked up quickly enough when I told him they were going to Gerhard and Liselotta's for the night, since he could play with Matti. They were surprised at her redness; in fact Tobias compared her with a tomato." They both laughed. "How do you feel, my Rose?"

"I'm fine. I feel about forty pounds lighter, and a lot less achy, and..." She hesitated for a moment, turning inward while he watched her curiously, then focused on him and said with some wonder, "I feel _happier_. It's really weird...you hear about so many women having postpartum depression, but I had it before Anastasia got here and now I just feel so much better. I think maybe I'll be able to face it better when we get home and Father explains to us exactly what's going on."

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that," Christian said wholeheartedly, pulling her into a hug. She returned it, nestling her head on his shoulder. "I don't think I have the stomach to go through this yet again. Tobias wants us to try again so he can have a baby brother, but something tells me we're finished having children. When I made the announcement of Anastasia's birth for the press yesterday afternoon, I told Rudolf I'll be lucky to have the energy to play with our future grandchildren."

Leslie giggled. "I don't think I want to do this again either. We really weren't expecting Anastasia as it is, but four's quite enough. What amazes me is that I got pregnant a second time. I figured once the triplets came, that was it. I wonder if we're going to have to use birth control from now on."

"Perhaps," Christian said, laughing. "We can always discuss that later when you've fully recovered from bringing Anastasia into the world. Let's see if they're willing to bring you some breakfast, and perhaps the morning newspaper as well."

As they had expected, the headlines were enormous, trumpeting the birth of infant Princess Anastasia of Lilla Jordsö. There was a photo showing Christian making the birth announcement, with several members of the family surrounding him; the article mentioned hoping to have a photo of Anastasia within a few days, though it also said that Christian had let it be known that since Anastasia was about a month premature, she would be in the hospital under observation for a while. They were surprised to find some quotes from Rudolf and Roald included in the article; Rudolf had passed on Christian's remark about having enough energy to play with any grandchildren, which made Leslie laugh and Christian roll his eyes and mutter something about payback for Rudolf.

After Leslie had been served a hospital breakfast—surprisingly good, she commented when she'd had a few bites—and Christian had eaten a quick _frykostfikka_ in the cafeteria, they were given a chance to visit Anastasia. The newborn was asleep, but when she was settled into Leslie's arms, she awoke, blinking half-blindly up at her mother. Christian pulled up a chair and did as Leslie had done the previous day, tracing his newest child's face with the lightest of fingertip caresses. Leslie talked softly to the baby. "Hi there, sweetie, it's your mother and father! That's Daddy touching you right now. You'll get to come home in a couple of weeks or so, and then you can meet your older brother and your two older sisters, and lots of other relatives. Aren't you just adorable?" She stroked Anastasia's downy cheek with the back of one finger, while Christian worked his own index finger into a tightly furled fist and smiled broadly as soon as the miniature fingers closed around it.

"What the newspapers and online news services wouldn't give for a photo of this," remarked a nurse, catching the parents' attention. "It's such a beautiful scene."

Christian chuckled. "They'll get enough photos when Anastasia's cleared to come home with us. I'd like to see her keep those blue eyes. They remind me of the ocean outside the atrium during the summer."

"She probably won't," Leslie said a little ruefully, "but at least she'll have them for a few months. Oh, look..." The baby had turned her head toward Leslie, her bud of a mouth puckering, clearly searching for sustenance.

"Were you going to try to breast-feed her?" Christian asked.

Leslie nodded. "Let's see if I have anything for her." She began to pull her top up while Christian extricated his finger from Anastasia's fist and lent some assistance. But the baby was only a day old and Leslie's system hadn't started producing milk yet; they watched as Anastasia latched on like a pro and began to suckle with surprising energy for a baby nearly a month premature. It had been more than long enough since Leslie had weaned the triplets that she had to get accustomed to the sensation and the pain of the infant's enthusiastic tugging, and winced several times but managed not to complain.

In a few minutes Anastasia had had enough of trying, and released her mother; the nurse assured them both that this was normal. Leslie gave Christian a look of exaggerated sorrow. "I guess that means I'll have to wait another nine or ten months before I can eat swordfish again," she kidded, and Christian laughed. It was a soft sound, but it seemed to surprise the baby; she turned her head toward him and stared in his direction.

"That's right, Anastasia, that's called laughing, and just wait three or four months, you'll be doing it too," Christian said with a grin. He turned then to the nurse. "I know that it's generally accepted, at least in this country, that breast-feeding is preferable to bottle-feeding, especially for premature infants. But if Leslie is to be released before we can take Anastasia home, how are we to establish a routine?"

They worked out some logistics, deciding that once Leslie's milk started flowing, she should come in at least three times a day to feed the baby. It made Christian say something about wishing he still had his flat in the city, since it was much closer than the castle, but in the end they worked things out so that Leslie could instead come in twice a day and other-wise employ a hospital breast pump so that Anastasia could get the benefits from mother's milk that she could never obtain from formula. They put a schedule together, made arrangements for Christian to bring Leslie in the next morning around ten, and retreated to the hospital room. There, the doctor who had attended Leslie and actually delivered Anastasia gave Leslie a full examination and deemed her ready for discharge.

They stopped at Gerhard and Liselotta's house to pick up the triplets, who greeted Leslie with happy shouts and enthusiastic hugs. All the way back to the castle, they bombarded their mother with questions about their new sister, till finally Christian called a halt and suggested they tell Leslie what they'd done with their cousins the previous night.

At supper, the family seemed to be unable to talk about anything but Anastasia, and it was brought to a halt only when Susanna reminded the group at large that they needed to take the baby home to meet Roarke. As it turned out, that resulted in another kind of family discussion entirely; after the children were in bed for the night, they gathered in the sitting room and settled in for the duration. Gerhard and Liselotta had come over to join in, as had Margareta and Gudrun, and Kai and Anna-Kristina.

"So rumor has it that maybe it wasn't so wrong, about your coming back to Lilla Jordsö to live," remarked Gerhard quizzically, once they had been settled and servants had come and gone, leaving apple wine, sparkling juice for Leslie and Adriana, and assorted snacks of both the sweet and savory varieties. "And this after you two categorically denied you'd be coming home."

"I made the categorical denials, not Leslie," Christian said with a crooked grin at his nephew, "but that seems to be the gist of it. Someone should make an announcement that if this goes beyond the castle, the servant or servants who are responsible will face consequences. I'm fed up with the media taking a simple statement and exploding it into all kinds of insane extrapolations." He sighed and let himself fall back in the chair he had insisted on sharing with Leslie, who huddled beside him with a preoccupied look about her. "That said, we do need to talk about all this, and with the possibility in mind, I thought it better to have everyone in the family involved. Since Mr. Roarke seems to have been handed some sort of ultimatum—retire or else—that means enormous changes in store, and we have less than a year to make decisions and implement them."

"What's it done to poor Aunt Leslie?" Anna-Kristina asked, gnawing on her lip as she stared at Leslie. "She looks as though she's not quite here."

Glances were exchanged, and Christian tapped Leslie's thigh, making her blink and turn to him. "Are you all right, my Rose? You need to be with us for this. You and I will be the most affected of all, perhaps even more than the triplets, just because they're so young and thus more resilient."

She heaved such a huge, weary sigh that he shifted in the chair and wrapped both arms around her from one side, pulling her to him. "I guess it's time to start facing up to it," she murmured, dropping her head on his shoulder.

"We've had a tremendous blow delivered to us," he told her in a soft, shushing tone, under a second conversation that had started up. "The object here is to discuss the options so that we can make as well-informed a decision as possible when the time comes. We'll have to speak of it with our Fantasy Island friends as well, so don't think it all ends here with our family."

She heard the slight but definite emphasis he put on "our", and smiled, glad to see his eyes light at the sight. "I haven't had siblings since I was thirteen years old," she told him with a sheepish chuckle. "I'll have to get used to being able to say 'brothers and sisters' again, in relation to me rather than the kids."

He grinned at that, but before he could comment, Rudolf's voice rose. "The point here is that Aunt Leslie will be a complete newcomer. Just because she's visited before doesn't mean she's prepared to live here, if they decide that." Christian and Leslie looked around to see him addressing Margareta. "She can speak some of the language, but you know she still isn't totally comfortable with it."

"More so than you think, Rudolf," Christian said, catching everyone's attention. "We try to speak it at home as much as possible; that's why the triplets are fluent in it, because I use _jordiska_ with them, particularly if Leslie isn't with us. They actually hear me speak English rarely enough that they automatically address me in _jordiska_ when they turn to me for anything. I've taught Leslie a fair amount of the language, and she seems to have picked up some as well. So while she isn't necessarily fluent, she can make herself understood, and I think she's quite good for someone who didn't start to learn it till her forties. What brought up the subject of the language?"

"The fact that Aunt Leslie still has trouble with it," Margareta said. "When she had to talk to the press, on television, about what you both saw when Briella died, she kept turning to you for word prompts. That's all right if she doesn't live here, but if you end up moving back here, she'll have to learn the language properly."

"I think, Magga, that Leslie is as well aware of that as anyone else here," Christian said with gentle sternness, and Margareta got pink and aimed an apologetic smile at Leslie. _"I ödets namn,_ Gudrun, I don't know how you put up with that niece of mine, as abrasive as she gets sometimes."

Gudrun grinned. "I simply let it roll right past me. She's all bluster, but of course, you knew that." Everyone laughed, and Gudrun focused on Leslie. "So...are we assuming, just for the sake of discussion, that you'll be coming to Lilla Jordsö?"

Leslie hitched a shoulder. "Well, I guess so. You'll have to excuse me if it seems as if you're all trying to convince us we should come back, though."

"That's what family does," said Anna-Laura teasingly. "They bully you into returning to the fold." When the chuckling stopped, she studied her brother and sister-in-law. "As you said, for discussion's sake. Christian, my assumption is that you'd shift your center of operations for your business back to your Sundborg office. Would you still operate the Fantasy Island branch, or close it down?"

"I don't quite know yet," Christian admitted. "If I kept it open, I'd have to go back once in a blue moon to check on the place, as I do with my other branches occasionally. Of late I've been lax about it, mostly because of the horrific travel distances and times involved; but that would be one small advantage of coming back. London and Santi Arcuros are both within a few hours' travel, and even Boston is just a day's flight away. Also, there's the fact that as I get older, my body reacts with less and less favor to so much flying, and sleeping the flights away doesn't always help. And I'm not prepared to invest in a corporate jet; even I have my financial limits."

"You could look into it," Anna-Laura said. "Amalia and your other accountants can get together and see what sort of resources you have. In any case, there'd be no interruption of your work or income. But for Leslie—she claimed at one point that she's 'useless'. Leslie, please, what precisely do you mean by that?"

"All I've ever done is work for Father," Leslie told her. "Helping him grant fantasies, as you know. I've never held any other job."

"What exactly did you do in that position?" Esbjörn broke in. "I think what we want to show you is that you have more job skills than you believe you do, even in light of the specialized nature of your position as Mr. Roarke's assistant. So what does it entail?"

Leslie hesitated before she said anything, thinking through a typical weekend on the island. "Well, let's see. During the weekends, I help Father greet the incoming guests, and we both talk to them individually about their separate fantasies. I usually help Father get them started on those fantasies. I go through all the incoming mail, separate out the bills and other business correspondence from the fantasy requests...I read the requests and set aside the ones I think Father might be interested in granting; I print out all the guest acceptance letters, stuff envelopes, put stamps on them, get all the outgoing mail to the post office." The family watched with increasing interest as she continued ticking off her days; only Christian listened with a knowing little smile. "I answer phones if Father isn't in; I check around to make sure everybody has supplies for the guests and the people who are just on vacation; I make checks on the guest sometimes, and I've been a sort of confidante for some of them. I've even cleaned hotel rooms a few times." That got her some chuckles; she smiled and continued enumerating. "I do some troubleshooting if something comes up on the technical end of things..."

"What do you mean by 'technical'?" asked Rudolf.

"Oh, dumb things like shortages of certain foods at the hotel restaurant, or things the guests leave behind by accident when they go home and realize too late their stuff is missing and would we please send it back to them. I've gassed up Father's fleet of vehicles on quite a few occasions." She grinned. "And then, of course, I've been sent back to play roles in a whole bunch of different fantasies. Even Christian's had that privilege occasionally."

"Moonlighting, were you, _ungstebror_?" Carl Johan jested, evoking laughter. "So what sort of fantasies does Mr. Roarke tend to send you back into?"

"Usually something he thinks has to do with one or more of my interests or abilities," Leslie mused, thinking back. "After Christian and I were married and he came to live on the island, Father started bringing him in on it a few times—whenever it had something to do with a fantasy connected with Lilla Jordsö. We've seen some very interesting things, and we used to think if we could write down everything we saw, heard and learned, the history textbooks in this country's schools would be a bit more accurate."

"Oh, now you've done it—you've got Mother's interest," Roald groaned with a teasing eye-roll in Anna-Laura's direction. "You'll be trapped for hours telling her everything you found out. You'd better change the subject now while you still can."

"Quiet, young man," Anna-Laura retorted, grinning. "All right, but believe me, Christian and Leslie, you can be sure I'll come back later looking for details. Unfortunately, Roald has a point; we'll end up far off topic. Leslie, you're quite wrong about having no marketable skills. Admittedly, what you can do wouldn't earn you much of a paycheck, but you really don't have to worry about that. It's not as though you're single and trying to support yourself. You have the privilege of choosing whether to work, and what with Anastasia to care for, I for one think finding another job should be low on your priority list right now."

"She has a good point, my Rose," Christian said. "My suspicion is that you were considering working because you didn't want to be seen as just another useless royal living off the castle treasury. Am I right?"

"Not by as much as you think you are," said Leslie with a smirk, and everyone broke into laughter. "I guess what I'm thinking is that...well, maybe I'll be occupied with motherhood for the next eighteen years, but the triplets will start school this coming fall, and after Anastasia's old enough to go, what do I do with myself during those hours? Even right now, she won't necessarily take up my every waking hour. I could make appearances on behalf of charities, sure...only I'd have to speak, wouldn't I?—and in _jordiska_ at that, which brings us back around to Margareta's original issue. Any job would require me to do that to some extent. So that'd be a big barrier right there."

"What if Aunt Leslie became the English tutor to all our children?" Liselotta asked, out of the blue. "She speaks enough _jordiska_ to communicate with them easily enough, and she wouldn't have to know really big words, because even Matti is still a beginner in the English language. As they grow older, Leslie will learn more _jordiska_ and become more fluent in it, and her knowledge of our language will grow as the children's English gets better."

They all gaped at her in wonder; Leslie's hand drifted to her mouth, her eyes almost round, and Christian sat up with excitement. "Liselotta, that's brilliant! It would be the perfect job for her! And we could save the cost of paying and housing a tutor!"

"There's that too," Amalia agreed with a laugh, "but at the same time everyone would benefit, and Leslie, you could keep your own hours, to some extent at least."

"Until the kids come around knocking and looking for her help with English at every hour of the day and night," Louisa said with a giggle. "They started doing that to me after Rudolf and I got married, and he had to threaten them to make them stop."

"I don't think I'd care," Leslie said, still in wonder at the whole idea. "Of course, I'd set limits right away. But I wouldn't mind. I'd feel useful, after all."

"Leslie, Leslie, my silly, overly modest Rose, you are _not_ useless, not in the least," said Christian firmly, with a long hug. "So there, you see? The problems aren't unsolvable at all. The next question here is this: where would we live?"


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § - April 27, 2009

"In the castle, naturally," said Anna-Laura with a pointedly raised eyebrow.

"Don't be so hasty there, _äldresyster,"_ Christian warned her, most of his levity fading. "You know how I prefer my privacy."

"If privacy is your _raison d'etre,"_ his sister retorted, "then you might as well remain on Fantasy Island. You have a ready-made home right here in the castle already, and you have more now than just yourself to consider. Leslie's tutoring job, for one thing—and the fact that you wouldn't have a house on an ordinary residential street and thereby declare yourself fair game for paparazzi and all others who want a piece of you. If you move back to this country, the first few days and weeks especially will be filled with media people trying to chronicle all the minutest details of your settling into your new home and new lives, and you'll have absolutely no peace. Living here, behind a security fence and with the castle secretary as a buffer, you'd be able to go about your business without fear of all that."

Christian looked reluctantly impressed. "If I didn't think I'd be teased about it from now until Matti takes the throne, I'd admit that you present some valid points that didn't occur to me. And I suppose that when the children are all old enough to care about such things, we could easily give each one his or her own room here in the castle. We're going to have to choose schools for them to attend..."

"They'll attend with their cousins, the same way ours did," Anna-Laura told him. "Don't overthink this, Christian Carl Tobias. The triplets aren't yet five years old, and they'll adjust perfectly well. Even if they're leaving behind friends on Fantasy Island, they'll find new friends here, and have no trouble doing it."

"I'll argue the issue about friends with you later," Christian promised her. "Speaking of friends, however—Leslie and I will be leaving ours behind, and Leslie in particular will be lost. Hers are almost the only friends she's ever had, and she's known them for thirty years now. That will be one of the most difficult parts of her leaving the island."

"And she doesn't have friends here to help take up the slack," said Anna-Kristina. "She has us, but she won't have anyone outside the family—and even Louisa had that before she and Rudolf were married."

"So she can take up three or four charities that are near and dear to her," Gerhard said with a shrug, "and find friends through those." He met Leslie's gaze. "Oh, look, Aunt Leslie, don't think I'm simply dismissing the friends you've had for so much of your life. But they don't have to be the only friends you ever have."

"And you can always have visits!" Adriana chimed in. _"Madi _will come back to Arcolos, perhaps to bring my little sister in the summers as promised, and she can always come here to visit both you and me! And _Madi_ told me so many times the stories of your friendship with her as you were growing up, so I know you are the very best of friends. You won't be so lonely as you might fear!"

"There you go," said Gerhard with a chuckle.

"And there's no reason the others can't visit," Esbjörn added. "They'll always be welcome. It may not be the same as being neighbors with them, but you need not think you'll have to restrict yourself to e-mail and the occasional phone call."

Leslie was eyeing them all; when they fell silent, as if waiting for her verdict, she said wryly, "It sounds to me as if you're trying to talk us into moving back here. I thought we were going to discuss both sides of the issue."

"This is such a big subject, my Rose, perhaps we don't have to cover every part of it in one session," Christian offered gently. "You'll have to expect a certain amount of bias from them in any case. They're excited that there's a possibility of my coming home and bringing my wife and children back with me, and naturally that'll color their advice."

She nodded and grew silent, and the family watched her for a moment. Then Rudolf grinned, relaxing beside Louisa and folding his arms over his chest. "Just for the fun of it, let's talk about the advantages or disadvantages of their staying where they live now. If we have to be impartial, then we might as well get it over with."

"What would the advantages be, then?" Gerhard inquired of his brother.

But it was Leslie who answered. "It's home."

That stopped the entire group, and they all stared at her, watching her wrap an arm around her husband. Christian squeezed her and glanced around at his relatives before admitting softly, "It's become home for me too."

After a long silence, Margareta cleared her throat and remarked a bit tartly, "Well, I suppose that stops the whole discussion right there, at least for now. They have nine months to make up their minds. I think we should leave them to it and go about our normal pursuits." She got up and stalked out of the room; the others watched her go, and poor Gudrun turned as red as a traffic light and ran out after her.

"Yes, all right, let's leave it at that," Carl Johan said, shaking his head after her. "We'll have to talk to Magga, I suppose."

"It's because of Mamma," Anna-Kristina said, now huddling against Kai in much the same way Leslie was huddling against Christian. "She doesn't say anything at all now when we stop in to see her. It's like she went...past that time when Pappa was alive, and now she's somewhere no one can reach her."

"Go on and see her now," Anna-Laura offered gently, "while you can. It might help to keep Magga a little calmer." Anna-Kristina nodded, pulled Kai to his feet and led him out of the room; they watched them leave, and when they were gone Rudolf muttered something under his breath that earned him a dirty look from Louisa.

"What was that, Rudolf Harald Reinhold?" Carl Johan prompted.

"He lets her lead him around like a dog on a leash. It's a cliché, but it fits perfectly. He never said a word the entire time we were trying to get Uncle Christian and Aunt Leslie to see the good things about coming back here." He caught his parents' expressions and threw his hands in the air. "I know, I know, it's none of my business, but I can't help seeing it. Kai was always overly deferential around us, and he's never changed even since he and Stina got married. All I can think is that she must be different at home, because otherwise they should've been divorced by now."

"You let Kai and Stina work that out, if they even see it the same way you do," Amalia ordered. "Let's go about our pursuits and give all these touchy subjects a rest."

It seemed to be a signal, and the family scattered; Christian and Leslie retreated to their suite. "Should we process what we've discussed, or let it rest for a while?" Christian asked, turning to Leslie and offering a gentle smile. "It's up to you."

She shook her head. "I don't want to think about it anymore. I just..."

Christian nodded. "Actually, I was just thinking we might pay a call on Kristina ourselves. If the doctors are right and she doesn't have much longer on this planet, perhaps we should take the opportunity to say goodbye. It's likely to do her no good, but we might get some comfort from it. And don't worry about Magga, I'll handle her if she gets out of line."

They ventured to the mid-bank room that Kristina had chosen when she had come back from the rest home in Birka, and found that both of Kristina's surviving daughters and their spouses were still there, with the women trying to talk to Kristina and Kai looking on with quiet sympathy. They all looked around when Christian and Leslie slipped into the room, and Margareta asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Don't be rude, Magga," Gudrun admonished.

"She's angry," said Christian with a shrug. "However, Magga, Gudrun has a point, and I suggest you try to remember whatever manners Kristina taught you once." Margareta flushed, and Christian moved deeper into the room, his gaze on Kristina, with Leslie behind him watching her sister-in-law with a trace of apprehension. Kristina sat in her wheelchair as though she were a worn-out rag doll a little girl had carelessly tossed down; her head lolled to one side and her eyes seemed to be fixed and unfocused. She seemed a shrunken version of her former self; what was left of her hair was a dusty-white hue, her skin was so thin that they saw blue veins trace the meandering patterns of rivers along her limbs, and her mouth hung open slightly. She resembled someone in her nineties; in fact she was not quite sixty-two.

Christian paused in front of Kristina and knelt before her, taking her hands into his and speaking in a soft singsong. "Kristina, it's Christian. I know you're in there somewhere. I also know you've been through far too much in the years since Arnulf died, and now that Briella's gone too, this is the only way you can cope. I just hope that I can reach whatever is left in your mind to hear us.

"I know that soon you'll see Briella, but while you're still here, please, Kristina—do us a favor. Give Stina and Magga here some sign that you know they're here with you. They'll have only each other and their spouses after this, and while you're still with us, they need to know that you haven't left them behind in some otherworld. Come back, even if only for a moment or two, and give them a little peace, Kristina."

Leslie stared at him in wonder the entire time he spoke, thinking he had quite a vat of courage in him. _Nothing ever seems to faze him,_ she thought enviously. _If I had even a fraction of that self-assurance of his, I wouldn't be so torn up about what's going to happen to Father and Fantasy Island. But then, maybe courage is just looking the scary thing in the eye and giving it a good swift kick..._

She pulled in a breath and stepped cautiously over to squat beside Christian, who watched her with curiosity as she laid a tentative hand on Kristina's arm. "Kristina...this is Leslie. I don't know if you can see me or hear me, but...but I just want you to know that I...I'm so thankful for the comfort you gave me when we brought Briella back for the last time. You suffered the worst loss of any of us—a mother losing her child—and yet you tried to calm me when I got hysterical. I should have thanked you for that while you could still hear me. But I want you to know how grateful I am for that, and how glad I am that I've known you since Christian and I were married. Thank you, Kristina."

"That's beautiful, Aunt Leslie," Anna-Kristina said softly.

Kristina suddenly made a small sound, the questioning cry of a bird, and they all turned back to her; her faded, unfocused blue eyes seemed to be zeroing in on Christian, who happened to be directly in her line of sight. Her lower jaw moved a few times and some grunts issued from her throat; Christian leaned forward as if listening, and at last they made out an actual word. _"Tackar,"_ Kristina croaked.

_"Ja, precis det, vi tackar dej,"_ Christian said with a nod.

_"Tackar alla,"_ Kristina said, then released a breath as if she had just run five miles, and sagged in the wheelchair. The momentary gleam in her eyes went out, and the same faraway non-expression settled over her worn features once more.

"She thanked us?" Kai asked in sheer amazement.

"Whatever she was trying to say," Christian murmured, loosing Kristina's hands and rising gracefully back to a standing position, "I think we can take it as a sign that she's glad you're all here with her." He took Leslie's hand. "I'll leave you with her now."

"Uncle Christian, thank you," Anna-Kristina burst out, hugging him hard. "Even if it's the last time she ever speaks to us, she at least said something. Thank you."

"I don't think I'm the one who got through to her," said Christian, and while his nieces and their spouses gaped, he led Leslie quietly out of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § - May 10, 2009

Leslie celebrated her forty-fourth birthday on May 6 with a family-attended party; when she and Christian went to the hospital for the day to give Anastasia her usual feeding—for the infant had taken so readily to breast-feeding that everyone was amazed—their car was spotted in no time at all by press people, and they led a small parade by the time Christian pulled into the parking lot. He hurried Leslie inside; the security guards who still remained at station there saw them come in and intercepted the press who tried to follow them in. He was annoyed, but Leslie found it funny, to his amazement, and laughed all the way to the nursery. In fact, when she, Christian and Anastasia had had their family time together, she was even willing to make a few statements before Christian called a forcible halt and took her back to the car.

Now, on this Sunday, Anastasia was two weeks old and the triplets, even Tobias, were grumbling that Christian and Leslie were always going to the hospital while they hadn't even had a chance to meet their new sister yet. Leslie had half a mind to take them along and insist, just once, on breaking hospital rules so the children could see Anastasia; but Christian nixed it. "Besides, it's been two weeks. Anastasia seems to be thriving; look how she's taken so easily to breast-feeding. Perhaps we can bring her home today."

To Leslie's delight, he was right—and the press had an utter field day. The second Christian and Leslie stepped out with the baby, flashbulbs went off everywhere, video cameras began whirring, and people yelled out questions. Anastasia, who had fallen asleep after her feeding,was awakened by the noise and began to make the whimpering sounds that always preceded her tiny, thin wails of discomfort. Her parents had learned very early on that she took great exception to being forcibly awakened.

Hospital security provided a shield for them; and, knowing the people would want photos, they paused for the obligatory minute or two, smiling for the benefit of the cameras. They also answered a few questions; but when some of the queries got repetitive or just plain silly and Christian felt the photographers had had their chance to get at least one or two decent shots of the baby, he called a halt. "That's enough," he said firmly. "It's time for us to get back to the castle so the triplets can finally meet their sister." He ignored several shouted questions as to why this was true; security formed a wall around the car for them till they could get Anastasia securely strapped into one of the car seats that all the castle vehicles were equipped with and then get in themselves. Leslie checked frequently on the baby, who had gone back to sleep after all, while Christian maneuvered his way out of the lot and onto the road. Only then did he vent. "Did you hear that? I can't believe there were people dumb enough not to know that children under thirteen aren't allowed in the maternity ward! I suppose they've never set foot in a hospital in their entire lives!"

Leslie giggled. "I thought that was pretty ignorant too, but then again, some press people ask the most ridiculous questions. So how fed up are you by now?"

He laughed in concession and admitted, "Pretty badly so. Ah well. Pending Dr. Salomonsson's assessment, we may be able to head for home by the end of the week."

The entire family met them in the great entry as soon as they emerged out of the south wing's east corridor from the castle garages, and Christian managed to put them off till they could get Anastasia to their suite. Then, once Leslie had been settled onto a couch so that the children could climb up beside her, she unwrapped the blanket from the soundly sleeping baby and nodded at the wide-eyed triplets. "Come here and meet your sister, you three. This is Anastasia."

Awed, the three children crowded in close and stared at the baby. As the adults and the other young children waited their turn, looking on with smiles, Karina reached out with one finger extended, then caught herself and looked at Leslie. "Can I touch her, Mommy?"

"Sure, honey, just be really gentle," Leslie instructed. Karina nodded and eased her finger in with excruciating slowness till Tobias grunted at her to hurry up, eliciting laughter and making Karina stick out her tongue at him before finally stroking Anastasia's forehead in the same spot with her fingertip.

"She doesn't feel like my baby dolls," said Karina, clearly amazed. "She's all soft and warm! Does she wake up and open her eyes, Mommy?"

"She does sometimes, but right now she's so little, most of the time she sleeps," Leslie told her. "You and Susanna and Tobias were just like that when you were tiny babies."

Karina's boldness gave Tobias and Susanna courage, and they too conducted some gingerly exploration with fingertips or, in Tobias' case, a palm covering the top of his baby sister's head. "She's hardly even got any hair," he said, making a face.

"Most babies don't have much hair," Leslie said. "You three were like that too."

Christian took a few quick surreptitious candid shots with his camera phone, then suggested the triplets sit with their mother and make some room for their aunts, uncles and cousins to see the baby as well. The children met their latest cousin first; then Rudolf and Louisa had the first turn of the adults. "Are you sure you don't want another one of these?" Christian teased them, and they laughed at him but conceded that it was tempting.

When Anna-Laura got her turn, she asked to hold the baby, and Leslie agreed, transferring Anastasia into her sister-in-law's arms before relaxing. "Goodness, she's heavy for such a little thing," Anna-Laura commented in surprise, taking a chair so she could rest the elbow supporting Anastasia onto a chair arm.

"She still looks like a tomato," Tobias opined, which got some more laughter and an admonishment from Christian. "Well, she does!"

"Perhaps so, but you don't need to announce it to everyone you see, young man," said Christian. "Let me gather a few servants and see if we can't find an unused crib for Anastasia somewhere around here."

"Lisi's old one should be in storage," said Anna-Laura. "Ask about that."

By suppertime Leslie had given Anastasia a feeding and put her in the crib, set up at the foot of the bed she shared with Christian. The triplets had all watched with avid interest while Anastasia had her meal; Tobias thought it was "weird" that the infant was "drinking out of Mommy's chest", as he put it, but seemed to have a great deal of thinking to do after his father informed him that he and his sisters had been fed the same way. Susanna had another concern entirely. "Mommy, Daddy...can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead, _lillan min,"_ Christian said.

"When are we going home? Grandfather has to meet Anastasia, you know. It's not fair if he doesn't get to see her, and we haven't been at home in forever."

"We'll see what Dr. Salomonsson says about the baby being able to travel," Christian said. "We can't leave till he says it's all right. But don't you worry—Grandfather will have the chance to meet Anastasia, we promise."

A couple of days later, Dr. Salomonsson gave the baby a thorough going-over and said she could travel, as long as there were substantial breaks between flights. Christian decided in that case that they would have a day's stopover in Boston so he could drop in on his office there, and then in Los Angeles he thought they might do a little showbiz-related sightseeing if possible. The doctor pronounced that acceptable, and Christian gave the castle secretary the task of arranging their flights and saw to it that packing got under way.

"Are you coming back?" queried Amalia the day before they were supposed to leave; it was the Friday after Anastasia had come home from the hospital. "I know you still have a lot to talk over and an enormous decision to make, but it would be nice to have some idea..."

"We just don't know," said Christian, glancing at her. "I wish I had something more specific than that, but we can't tell you anything right now because we ourselves don't know. Maybe we'll be a little better informed once Leslie's father tells us exactly what he's facing, but I'm not actually certain even of that. All I can say is that we'll keep you informed. Don't tell me..." He straightened and peered at her and Carl Johan with interest. "We've been here so long now that you suddenly find you can't stand the idea of our being gone."

"Look, Christian, we supported your decision to live with Leslie on Fantasy Island," said Carl Johan, "but it really left a hole in the family. When we thought it was permanent, we told each other it was no different from immigrant families being separated from their relatives in the old country, once and for all, forever. But that was in a different time, when it was impossible to make a trip to the other side of the planet in a day or two. I know it's arduous to fly so much, and you'd rather simply stay where you are...I know. But having you and Leslie and the children here seems to...to complete the family circle. Isn't there even a shred of hope you could give us that you might return?"

"The possibility is always open," said Christian, shrugging. "It's going to depend very heavily on what Mr. Roarke tells us, and then on what Rogan decides he needs. Rogan isn't any too happy about having to take over, we understand, but his son isn't old enough to step into Mr. Roarke's shoes, and he needs extensive training anyway. And it's not the sort of training Leslie can give him. Rogan and Rory belong to Mr. Roarke's clan—a special family group, like the Liljefors clan—and Leslie is only an adoptee. So while we have no clear answers for now, I can at least tell you there's a chance."

Leslie smiled in their direction. "At least we know we have someplace to come to if it turns out we can't stay. I've lain awake a lot of nights wondering how homesick I'm going to be if we do come back, but it's occurred to me more than once that Fantasy Island just wouldn't be the same place without Father running it. Maybe I'm too attached to the way I grew up with things, but I guess that's just my nature."

"Everyone's different; some take change better than others," Amalia said, nodding. "I think we're just trying to let you know that if you find yourself facing a move, you'll be welcome here, always. And anytime your friends would like to visit, they too will be welcome to stay here in the castle. Why on earth do you think we keep all those guest suites maintained in the south wing?" They all laughed.

It was Tuesday, the eighteenth of May, before Christian, Leslie, their children, and all their attendant baggage finally landed on Fantasy Island. The welcome wagon that greeted them in the plane-dock clearing made Leslie cry; even Christian was moved by the size of the gathering. Roarke was there, of course, and all the Enstads' friends had joined him to welcome them home and meet Anastasia. As it happened, Tabitha and Fernando had their own new family member to introduce as well—third son Tadeo, who had been born a little late, on March 2. The triplets made a great deal of noise greeting and hugging their grandfather; Susanna insisted on pulling him over to Leslie so that he could meet Anastasia, and then joined her brother and sister in reconnecting with Kevin Knight and April Harding. Christian watched her go and laughed. "That was quick."

"She was pushing us for you to meet Anastasia ever since I gave birth," Leslie told Roarke, "and now I guess it's 'mission accomplished'." Roarke laughed, and she looked around at all her friends and smiled wistfully. "I can't tell you how good it feels to be home again. I'm...I'm going to enjoy it as long as possible."

"Take a few days before you come to speak with me," Roarke advised her while Christian found himself assaulted with computer conundrums after being surrounded by several of his friends. "You'll need to readjust to the local time, and with Anastasia in the family now, you should establish a new routine in your home. When Rogan and I have seen the fantasies off on Saturday, I should have time."

"I see," she murmured. "I have to tell you one thing, though, Father...I really resent being shoved out of my job like that. I know you weren't the one who did it, but this—this tribunal just infuriates me, tap-dancing in like that and taking over without so much as a request for a visit."

He waited till she had met his gaze; then he informed her gently, "As a matter of fact, Leslie, your feelings are very much in tune with my own. There is one consolation, if you like to think of it as such. While I am training Rogan, the tribunal members have made it clear that they are available for consultation at any time we deem necessary. I want both you and Christian to come to my study on Saturday morning, about eleven o'clock; you can inform one of your babysitters that she will have business watching the triplets, and if the baby is napping, you can leave her with her siblings. I will call the tribunal for a conference when you two have arrived and settled the children, and they will have the burden of explaining their actions and motives. Don't look so startled, my child: it was my intention that they give an accounting of themselves to you, from the day they first told me I must retire."

"What'll happen to you after this last year is up, though?" Leslie asked, aware that she sounded plaintive, but not quite able to disguise her trepidation. "Where'll you go?"

"The tribunal can explain that also," Roarke assured her. "Try not to worry, Leslie. I am still in fine health and good spirits. Perhaps you'll notice that I don't quite appear to be, but there is an explanation for that as well, however vague and oblique. You have certain priorities to arrange over the next few days, so put away your worries and your questions until Saturday. For now, I think it's time you were on your way home."


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - - May 22, 2009

The triplets, who had known for some months that Ingrid wasn't coming back with them so that she could marry and have her own family, had apparently not quite believed this was actually going to happen; so they had put up quite a fuss when Christian and Leslie rearranged the room Ingrid had used and set it up for Anastasia. For the first time, Susanna and Karina evinced resentment of the sister they'd been so glad to get. "Why does she get her own room and we have to share?" Susanna had demanded. It had taken a lot of persuasion, some scolding, and a night or two of proof—in the form of Anastasia awakening for a feeding every three hours or so and crying enough to rouse all three of her older siblings—to convince them it was best this way. Karina had been heard to grouse at one point, though, that Christian and Leslie should keep Anastasia's crib at the foot of their bed as they had done in the castle.

But by and large, they seemed to have adjusted to Ingrid's absence; they had had a long interval at the castle for this, so it wasn't as difficult as it could have been. Because it was their first weekend back, Christian and Leslie had decided to have both Brianna and Noelle stay with the children; they set up Karina's old infant bassinet for Anastasia, moved it into a shady spot in the side yard, saw to it that there were snacks and water bottles for both the children and their sitters, and made sure the baby was sound asleep before meeting Roarke in his study.

Rogan was there at the moment, leaning against the front of Roarke's desk with his hands in his pockets. He was dressed much more casually than Roarke, who was wearing his customary white suit; Rogan had on a pair of white jeans and one of the ubiquitous Fantasy Island souvenir T-shirts, black with white lettering that proclaimed simply, _FANTASY ISLAND STAFF_. "That must be a new design," commented Leslie.

Rogan grinned. "We anticipated you—here's yours." He shook out a pile of folded emerald-green fabric and displayed the same message at her before tossing her the shirt.

"Well, good, now I feel less left out," said Leslie through a laugh.

"Maybe you should wear it now; you look a bit formal," Christian remarked with a teasing smile. Leslie had worn her usual weekend work attire; she hadn't completed recovering from bearing Anastasia, but she was able to fit into the outfit all the same.

"Oughtn't you to be on maternity leave?" Rogan queried.

Roarke grinned at Leslie's dirty look. "We can work that out later, Rogan, and don't worry, Leslie, as I said. Why don't you all have a seat, and I'll issue the summons."

They settled down and watched Roarke lean back in his chair, gazing intently toward the middle of the study ceiling. When Rogan's eyes followed suit, Christian and Leslie looked at each other, then twisted in their chairs to watch that spot as well. In about thirty seconds they were rewarded by the sight of five clouds in a ring, each a different Easter pastel hue, hovering almost playfully around the ceiling fan above its slowly rotating blades. The pink cloud flashed gently in time with a voice. "You called, Roarke?"

"I did. As I'm sure you can see, my daughter has returned from abroad, and since her husband is often involved in my business whether he wishes it or not—" this generated a few chuckles— "I felt he had as much right to know as she; so he is with her."

"Ah, young Leslie," said the green cloud. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

Leslie stared at it, then turned to Roarke. "Is this the tribunal? A bunch of clouds?"

"This is merely the disguise we found most convenient for us," the yellow cloud said, sounding apologetic. "If you wish, we can take a different form."

"Aye, that'd suit me," Rogan said. "Last time I saw ye meddlers, I had a crick in me neck for three days."

Roarke cast him an amused, if quelling, look. "I think it might be most comfortable for the rest of us if you would kindly accommodate us. This is likely to be a lengthy discussion, so I suggest that you take on something more...human, perhaps?"

"That's such a complicated transformation," the lavender cloud complained. "I always have to rest for days after I've changed back again."

"I'm sure you'll survive," Leslie told it sarcastically. "But if you'd rather be a cloud, at the very least, you could move down here to eye level."

Christian shifted in his chair and offered, "Perhaps you could try changing into some-thing like...a cat? Talking clouds seem a little...odd."

Rogan threw him a look. "And talking cats wouldn't?"

Christian's return look made Rogan blink. "Suppose you make a suggestion, then."

Roarke cleared his throat and broke in, "I think it best not to waste our time; we have a great deal to discuss. I see no reason for you not to remain in that form, but please do come down here so that it will be easier on us all, thank you."

The clouds drifted down from the ceiling and hovered just off Roarke's right, gathering in a sort of stunted pyramid that seemed to be missing its top. "Very well, Roarke, here we are. Now what's the first topic?" the yellow cloud inquired.

"First of all, I want to know what in the world gives you the right to force Father to retire," Leslie said with heated outrage. Rogan and Roarke both grinned; Christian let out a small sigh and rested his head against the back of his chair, eyeing his wife with resignation. She continued without noticing. "The lot of you really have a hell of a nerve, marching in here like that and announcing that it's time for a changing of the guard. Do you have any idea at all just how many lives you're trying to disrupt here? Do you even care? Did it make any difference at all to you that I'd have had something to say about it if you'd bothered to wait till I was able to contribute my two cents? You took advantage of my absence, threw me right out of my job, and decreed that I needed to stay where I happened to be at the moment, ostensibly because of pregnancy difficulties. And if you think I'm up in arms, just look at Father. I'm sure he's no happier about having to give up this business than I am. Just who do you..._characters_ think you are, anyway?"

"Aren't you going to stop her? She's got far too much to say for herself," the lavender cloud said indignantly.

"She has a right to say it," admonished the pink cloud, which seemed to be the leader; it was ensconced on the top tier of the "pyramid" alongside the blue cloud. "We apologize for the abruptness of our actions, Leslie, but the timing left us no choice."

"What's so important about the timing?" Leslie demanded.

"The fourteenth of January," said the blue cloud, speaking for the first time in a gentle, feminine voice. "That day, a vital piece of Roarke's spirit departed him. We can't explain any more than that; if we tried, you couldn't understand it. Have you truly looked at him, Leslie? Do you not see that he is not fully what he once was?"

She studied Roarke for a moment, then caught her lip between two teeth. After a few more seconds, she sighed. "Well, he does look a bit more...wan, maybe."

"You're seeing the effect of the departure of that spirit," said the green cloud. "I am sorry to say that there's no retrieving it; its time had arrived, and it was obliged to go. Roarke is still able to conduct his business, yes; but as time passes, you will find that he will grow gradually weaker, will tire more easily, and will depend more and more on Rogan Callaghan to attend to his guests. You may certainly return to work then, if they deem your assistance necessary and desirable. But when Roarke's deadline arrives on the next fourteenth of January, Rogan Callaghan will step into his place, and it will be his decision alone as to whether to have you continue as his assistant."

"So I have absolutely no say in it at all, is that what you're telling me?" Leslie cried, sitting up straight, her voice filled with mingled horror and fury. "That's—how can you—why are you..." She shook her head and sagged, hiding her face in her hands.

"Don't you think that's unduly harsh?" Christian put in, scowling at them. "You speak of her as if she were just a throwaway object—directly to her, no less. You people...or whatever the hell you are—you're cruel."

"I must agree," said Roarke, turning a stare of high disapproval onto the clouds. "My daughter is not some faceless, nameless member of a vast army of drones. She has been my assistant for nearly nineteen years, and she was a great help to me and my former assistants for another six years in her teens. I object strongly to this treatment, and I'll have you know I won't allow it, no matter what you intend to do with me."

"What did I ever do to you to make you carry on like I'm nothing?" Leslie added, her eyes full of tears and her face red, but her voice strong with rage.

Rogan snorted. "Even if the decision really were entirely mine, I'd just end up tellin' her she could stay solely to spite the lot o'ye. Sure an' ye're one heartless gang."

"Have you all had your say now?" the yellow cloud inquired in a dust-dry voice. "We have explained to you that time is of the essence. More than that you don't need."

At this Roarke bolted up straight in his chair, startling Christian, Leslie and Rogan; even the clouds seemed to flinch back toward the wall. "This grows tiresome," Roarke snapped. "I warned you that you'd be in for a very long interrogation once you made it clear you intended to remove me from my island and see to it that my daughter was made obsolete in the process. My memory is very clear on this: you agreed that she deserved to know why you insist on turning her life upside down in this fashion. Now you're merely giving her useless platitudes. Whatever you may think of 'mere humans', you will kindly remember that when the clans were in desperate need of a refuge, those who already occupied this planet were generous enough to offer us a home! There are yet good and decent humans here, and I believe you'd know that if you were truly as observant as you pretend to be. These three are very much among them, and while you are here, you _will_ show them the respect and common courtesy they deserve. Furthermore, you will cease insulting Leslie's intelligence and give her a full explanation of what she faces and why!"

A ringing silence thumped down when he was finished, and no one moved; Roarke continued to glare expectantly at the clouds, and Christian and Leslie dared trade glances of wonder. Then Rogan snorted. "Maybe they can't find the words they need to explain it, so it might well be up to ye, uncle."

"Perhaps you're right, Rogan," said Roarke, without removing his gaze from the clouds. "Were it in my power, I would insist this tribunal be dissolved and new members put in place—those who appreciate this world and its natives, rather than taking it for granted, complaining about it and trying to manipulate it to their own selfish ends."

"Roarke, Roarke," the pink cloud said in a weary tone, "you have just pointed out one very important argument in favor of bringing you into our ranks. I am leader, but often only nominally. We need an ameliorating influence with the vast experience with humans that you possess. Perhaps then there would be a little less cruelty on the part of the rest of us, as you say. There's little you can do to change minds in the position you now occupy; you'd have so much more influence as a member of this tribunal."

"You're avoiding the subject," Roarke said icily. "Do as you were told to do, and give my daughter the explanation she deserves."

"I'll do it, since the rest of you seem to find it beneath you," the blue cloud said. "To begin with, Leslie, there are some things that Roarke hasn't told you, mostly about himself and his roots and origins, but a few other things as well. One of those things is that we have come to him before this with the same issue at stake. You were not aware of it, because we did as we have always done: we froze time at a crucial moment and called Roarke to us. It was at the changing of the millennium, at precisely the stroke of midnight. Two of us have left the tribunal since that time; however, we have all agreed that this time he simply cannot talk us into indulging him any longer."

Leslie was staring at the blue cloud. "You tried to make him retire once before?"

"Yes—his time had come, or so we thought. However, Roarke did a compelling job of convincing us that he was not yet ready and that there was pressing need for the service he provides. That was nine years ago; now, with the passing of that vital component of his being, he will gradually reach a point at which he will no longer be capable of it."

"It just so happens that there's still a pressing need for the service Father provides," Leslie informed the cloud. "I have no doubt that all the arguments he presented you with back then are just as valid now."

"That's why we have chosen Rogan Callaghan to step into his place," the blue cloud explained. "Rogan protested greatly, I might add. He has claimed more than once since our initial encounter on January 14 that horticulture is his true calling and the profession he was meant for. We don't begrudge him this, but at this time he's the only candidate who's capable of taking over for Roarke. Once young Rory Callaghan comes of age and is sufficiently trained and prepared, it will be he who assumes the fantasy-granting business."

"What'll happen to Father after...after the deadline?" asked Leslie.

"He will join the tribunal as a sixth member," the blue cloud said. "We have been short that crucial sixth participant for some time now, and he will lend a much-needed note of compassion and sanity and calm to this group. Some tempering is needed here...and you know who you are, too." This seemed to be directed elsewhere; the three clouds on the bottom tier reacted like storm clouds for a moment or two, roiling as if in resentment.

"And there's nobody else anywhere who could be just as suitable?" Leslie persisted.

The yellow cloud sighed. "You don't let up, do you? What did we tell you about Roarke's physical condition?"

"Oh, for crying out loud, all _right,"_ muttered Leslie, exasperated; fortunately she missed the grin Christian couldn't repress. "But I still find it incredibly presumptuous of you to just stroll in and take over, and throw me right out of my job, and pretty much tell me I'm worse than useless. I suppose if I were Father's 'real' daughter, with the clan abilities, I wouldn't look nearly as undesirable and expendable to you."

Silence greeted that, and Leslie's expression became stony; Roarke sighed gently. "Your prejudice is showing again," he said. "I think now would be a good time to remind you that, due to your incorporeality, you don't have quite the level of control over the situation that you believe you do. Rogan and Leslie will talk it over and make the decision between the two of them, and you will most certainly abide by it. We have other matters to discuss that don't concern you, but you will be obligated to come to our assistance should I find it necessary to summon you."

"Don't forget, Roarke," the pink cloud said then, "you'll see all your most cherished loved ones again. We promised you that the last time, and it still holds now."

"You made no such promise," Roarke retorted. "As I recall, you tortured me with their images in an attempt to persuade me to give up my life here. And I told you then why it was vital that I refuse; those reasons still apply."

"Not all of them," said the green cloud. "Your daughter was alone then; her husband was then married, however unwillingly, to another. That isn't true now. Not only is she married to him, she has children with him—and his family have welcomed her as a member, haven't they? The argument you gave us about her having nowhere to go and no one else on earth is false now. She will be well taken care of after you join us."

"So her loss of her father doesn't matter then," Christian put in cuttingly. "Are you beyond the concept of parental love, or do you just fail to understand it, for whatever reasons? You can be certain that I'm more than willing to take care of Leslie, but that doesn't mean she won't feel a great loss in her life once you take Mr. Roarke from her."

"You do carry on as though uncle's disappearance won't matter a damn," Rogan agreed. "He has a certain amount of fame because of what he does. I'm not convinced the business won't be adversely affected once word gets out that he's 'retired'—what a misnomer for what ye're tryin' to do here—and someone else is tryin' to fill his shoes. Particularly when it's one who'd rather be tendin' his plants."

"I think you've all made it very clear to us just how much you resent the imminent changes," the lavender cloud said angrily, "but the fact is that they're coming and you're just going to have to deal with them, exactly like every other human on this planet and all the clan members, past and present! Just for your information, I was all for petitioning one of the remaining LiSciolas to take the vacant position with us, but I was unanimously shouted down. They were too damaged, I was told. No one in the Liljefors fold is in a position to come up, so that leaves you, Roarke."

"The Liljefors clan?" Christian repeated.

"Later, Christian," Roarke said, and the prince subsided, though it was clear he had a whole new batch of questions now. "I believe what needed saying has been said, and now we are merely making accusations and airing grievances. I'll speak with my daughter and son-in-law about the issues that concern them; for now, we are finished here."

"Dismissed, are we?" said the yellow cloud. "Maybe next time we _will_ show up as talking cats, just to give that prince a little scare."

"Too late, you've warned me," Christian said lightly, with a crooked grin. Leslie slumped in her chair, snickering in delight, and Rogan ducked his head, snorting with glee. Even Roarke grinned at that, and waved the clouds away; they floated toward the ceiling and faded like so much smoke.

"So then," Rogan said, "ye have other matters to discuss, presumably more earthbound than whatever the tribunal is involved with?"

"Indeed," said Roarke. "It has to do with ownership of the island, as well as stewardship and administration. Have you mentioned any of this to Christian, Leslie?"

"We talked about it some, the night you told me what was going to happen," she said. "Obviously we didn't come to any hard-and-fast conclusions, but we do know what we're looking at. I know you've said I'm your heir and therefore you're leaving the island to me, so that I suppose I'll be the owner. But I can't do what you do. I don't know anything about island law—at least, not about enforcing it, and certainly no more than what I was taught in the obligatory eleventh-grade class on island law and history. That wouldn't qualify me to be the last word in things like court matters or extradition."

"No," Roarke mused, "and I don't imagine Rogan has much interest in such things either." Rogan rolled his eyes at that, and they laughed.

"Perhaps Grady would be willing," Christian offered then. "He's the only lawyer on the island, isn't he? That would give him extensive knowledge of island laws and legal code, and his experience and profession would carry weight. He's in his late fifties—for that matter, it amazes me to realize he's the same age as my brother Carl Johan—but I haven't heard any talk yet from him of retirement. Still, you might speak with him."

"That's an excellent idea, Christian," said Roarke with approval. "I'll certainly do so at my earliest convenience. You see, Leslie, there are solutions."

She smiled a little. "But there's no solution to what'll happen next January."

"Leslie," Roarke said gently, "surely you are aware that no one lives forever—not even I. Perhaps it's time for me to tell you a few things about myself and my origins, things that you never knew, that no one else knows—including Tattoo, as well as Rogan."

"Is this where I'm asked to leave?" Christian inquired, already tensing to rise.

"No, Christian," Roarke said, freezing him. "You are my daughter's husband, which makes you the closest thing I've ever had to a son. And Rogan, you're a clan member—to the best of my knowledge, only you and I and Rory are left of the clan, and I think you're entitled to know. I ask only that this not be circulated. There is too much that people would find impossible to believe, even of me, and I prefer that it be kept confidential."

"We'll do it, uncle," Rogan promised, and Christian and Leslie both nodded.


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § - May 22, 2009

Roarke settled back in his chair, and his eyes lost focus; Leslie wondered what he was seeing with his mind's eye. "We're no longer certain precisely when the clans first arrived on this planet. We do know that it was at some point during earth's last ice age, some two hundred fifty centuries ago. They landed in Europe, as I recall. There were the remnants of six clans from our homeworld. There had been a massive war—a literal world war that makes those of the last century here look like tribal squabbles—and so many battling factions had laid such waste to it that it was rapidly becoming uninhabitable. Some of our nations had space travel, quite advanced, but much of the technology and what was built with it was destroyed in the fighting. But the clans who escaped banded together, for their own defense and safety, and started a long search through the largest nations. Somehow they discovered two small spacecraft in good working order, overlooked by some miracle, and took the immediate chance to flee the planet before its deterioration decimated them.

"The clans were not known by the names we bear now. That came many millennia later. They scattered throughout the continent when they landed here after their journey—which took three generations, according to the lore that has survived—and were able to fit in among the indigenous population with little effort. It was, of course, necessary for them to disguise their abilities." Roarke seemed to become aware of the looks they exchanged and came out of his reverie for a moment, smiling. "I presume you'd like to know about that? I can tell you about the abilities of my clan—what looks to you and everyone else like magic is only the simple ability to manipulate matter with our thoughts. That matter includes ourselves, which, Leslie, is the reason I seem to 'teleport' from one place to another."

"That doesn't explain the time-travel abilities," Leslie protested.

Roarke grinned. "You may recall that, from time to time, I mentioned a group of anonymous benefactors who helped me to set up the resort. Throughout all these years, they have continued to assist me, and time travel is one of the abilities they provided for me. I myself cannot cause someone to travel back and forth in time; I simply have the generous and full-scale use of the ability, given to me by those benefactors. One might say it was on permanent loan." They all laughed quietly. "The same is true of the fact that Fantasy Island is considered the gateway for gods and other similar entities to gain access to the planet; this was instigated by my benefactors and is not one of my inborn abilities."

"So that's why you can't bring people back to life," Leslie said.

"Correct. An unfortunate vagary of the limitations under which I must work, but there had to be some ground rules." He winked, and she grinned. "However, I've gotten well ahead of myself. Matter manipulation is the specialty of the clan into which Rogan and I were born, and Rory as well. As with certain more mundane talents in humans, propensity varies with the individual; some are simply better at it than others. However, we all have it to at least some extent.

"The clan you know as the Liljefors family, Christian, was another of the half-dozen that took refuge here. Their specialty is mental control. Even on our homeworld, this gave them a notoriety that resulted in unspeakable attacks on that clan at regular intervals. To be a member of that clan is difficult for more reasons than simple ostracism. As you can surely imagine, one with such powers must be very carefully taught, well trained, and always cautioned against the temptation to use the power in a malicious way. Of course, there were always those who couldn't resist, and they caused much trouble...but that's entirely another story, one we don't have time for here."

"I presume the LiSciolas were one of the other four clans," commented Rogan.

Roarke nodded. "They always had a particular way with plants. They can make any variety of fauna grow in any type or combination of conditions." Christian and Leslie looked at each other with discovery on their faces, and Roarke nodded. "That clan, I must add here, gathered up their entire supply of amakarna to bring on the voyage with them. Amakarna was a very common plant on the homeworld; but once it was brought to earth, it became extremely temperamental, enough that it gave even the LiSciolas headaches. As with most earth humans, it was a necessity for many of us; only a bare few could tolerate it without becoming vitally dependent on it. It was that need that motivated them to bring the spice here to earth, not the greed that drove the last two generations.

"Also, there was a clan that had extraordinary rapport with animals, and could communicate with them as easily as with one another. They not only were on good terms with them, but also healed their wounds, treated their illnesses, and did all in their power to help them. This, too, was a clan that had grown dangerously small in number, and to keep from dying out, they found it necessary to intermarry with native earth humans. Their abilities have been the stuff of legends in many cultures for countless centuries; one such legend inspired the story of Dr. Doolittle, and even today you still hear of so-called horse whisperers and dog whisperers and other such things. Those people have at least some ancestry through that clan; the abilities are not as strong as with full-blooded clan members, so that it usually manifests as the ability to bond with only one kind or species of animal. But they are still out there.

"The other two clans have long since become extinct. One could create matter from nothing whatsoever. This was a rare ability even on the homeworld; they were by far the smallest of the clans, and even in a full-blooded member, it wasn't guaranteed that one would be born with the power. And the other clan possessed a power that untold trillions of souls have wished for at one time or another, including myself: the power to bring the dead back to life." He noted the stares on his three listeners and swept them all with a regretful look and nod. "As I said, they are extinct. Their power had its limits: they could bring others back to life, but not themselves."

"But you'd think there'd have been enough of them at all times to be able to resuscitate their own, even in something like the Black Plague from five or six centuries ago," Rogan protested. "What on earth killed them all off?"

"That's unknown, I'm sorry to say. Speculation is that there was some mass disaster in the place where they settled down to live, one that wiped out the entire clan all at once. There's nothing else capable of achieving such a result. Over the centuries, I've heard many a clan member wish he or she had been born to that group...I myself among them at times." He caught Leslie's gaze, and she immediately knew what he meant.

"So I presume the clans eventually dispersed throughout the world," Christian said. "They must have, just by simple nature of the beast."

Roarke nodded. "Exactly. Because of our various powers, if there were too many of us in one place—even an isolated place—and we were discovered using our powers by those who didn't possess them, it was thought that we should migrate as widely as possible. It too often meant the breaking of long friendships, and sometimes, family ties. For some few millennia we were safe enough. My father was head of our branch of the family—some of his own siblings and many cousins of mine. We settled in what is now Mexico, but we were never particularly numerous. This was true of all the clans. But then there came the Dark Ages, and superstitious people forever conducting witch hunts and other such pogroms—and atop all the rest, the bone-eating disease, which I should mention developed as a result of the long interplanetary journey of the original clan members. Once we arrived on earth, it mutated to such an extent that it was impossible to predict, in countless little ways. That's why it was thought there could never be a cure for it. Everyone who contracted the disease experienced it in a wholly different way from all other sufferers. Some died within weeks; some took decades. Some had mild symptoms, some debilitating. Some had mental or physical control, or both, throughout; some had neither, almost from the beginning. Symptoms themselves were almost all different according to the individual. There was simply nothing predictable about the disease, except for a few stark facts: it attacked and eroded the bones; it was always fatal; and there was no cure for it. Between the disease and all the superstitious mass killings across the last millennium, all the clans were greatly reduced in number, until it would now be possible to keep track of all of us who are left should anyone wish to do so."

"Why don't they," Christian queried, "if it's so easy?"

"Many reasons. One of them is that, particularly in the case of the animal-kindred clan—who I believe took on the surname Landwirt a few centuries ago and settled primarily in what is now known as Germany's Black Forest—the clans intermarried with earth humans, as I mentioned, and the abilities have become diluted to the point that it's not as remarkable as it would have been in a full-blooded clan member. Today's descendants are not likely to know the true origins of their abilities. And in this world in which people make a visual record of everything they see, then put it on some social-networking venue and create needless and hurtful controversy over so many otherwise petty things; in a world filled with people who hate one another because of the religion they choose or, especially, those who do not believe at all; in a world that values material things over the less tangible aspects of life; in a world too many of whose denizens either fail or refuse to see that they are slowly but steadily destroying it—this is not a world of full acceptance. Trends are gradually leaning that way, and it's heartening; but it's still too soon. We would merely call attention to ourselves by trying to find one another. It's best we remain quiet."

"And that tribunal wants to decrease the numbers by still one more, the way they're trying to take you away from this island and all the good you do," grumbled Leslie.

"Unfortunately, Leslie, they do have a point about my physical condition. You may have believed I would, but even I won't live forever. I have explained my origins to you, told you about the clans, and now I'll tell you about myself. I am the only child of two people who passed away many centuries ago. You may remember, Leslie, that I spoke of them only once, a bit over a year before you and Christian were finally able to marry. Mother died of a severe allergic reaction to amakarna; my father, who had the bone-eating disease, perished of that, but much sooner than he might otherwise have done, because once amakarna killed my mother, he refused to take the palliative tonic that contained the spice, and let the disease kill him. I believe he felt he couldn't live without her."

"I understand that very well," murmured Christian, glancing at Leslie.

Roarke smiled at that. "I have a feeling they would have lived a good bit longer had it not been for that. In any case, we have a lifespan of approximately 3000 years, on average." He watched chins sink around him, even Rogan's, and nodded. "You may expect to live easily another 2000 years, Rogan. As for me, my lifespan would be nearing its end even without the tribunal badgering me to close down this chapter of it. I haven't been able to recall my precise age for some time now—one tends to lose track when a certain number of centuries has passed—but were I allowed to remain here, I would have perhaps another five decades left to me.

"Our incorporeal selves, however, outlast our physical shells by some considerable time, and that will be where I go once my deadline has passed. I hadn't considered joining the tribunal, but it seems they need some strict guidance." He smiled wryly. "In any case, as best I can calculate, I was born approximately one hundred years into China's Zhou dynasty, which for the sake of reference is understood to have begun in the year 1046 B.C. My parents were born about the time the Great Pyramid of Giza was being constructed."

"Somethin' like 2550 B.C., I think," Rogan said, blinking.

"A fine one you are to look shocked at hearing that," Christian ribbed him. "When were you born, or have you already lived so long that you've forgotten?"

Rogan snorted and told him with exaggerated haughtiness, "Matter of fact, I was born in the Viking era, in the good old year of 948. So aye, I'm a thousand and ten years your senior...which means ye'd best listen to me when I tell ye somethin'."

"Do you grow into adulthood at the same pace earth humans do, or does it take a couple hundred years?" asked Leslie, half facetiously.

Roarke laughed. "Our physical childhood runs its course at the same pace as that of an earth human, but mentally we often don't mature until well into the second century of our lives. Not entirely unlike humans who don't mature after childhood." He winked and they all burst into laughter. "I believe I've told you as much as I can. Do you have any questions that I may have failed to address?"

"Well, nothing I can think of," said Leslie slowly, as if reluctant to admit it and see this unusual chat session come to an end. "But I reserve the right to present questions as I come up with them, should there be any."

"There's one I've got," Rogan said. "The tribunal kept sayin' a piece o'your spirit passed on, that day I found you here. What does that mean? Is this true of all the clans? Will that happen to me as well, one day?"

Roarke was quiet for a long moment, while Rogan, Christian and Leslie watched and waited expectantly. Finally he drew in a breath. "It has been said that we of the clans sometimes have doppelgangers here on earth," he said slowly. "This isn't true of all of us, but there is no predicting who will have one and who won't. It appears I did. That doppelganger left this existence on that morning you found me here, and it affected me as well."

"Do you ever receive the privilege of knowing who it was?" Christian asked.

Roarke shook his head. "I am not aware of any instance in which we were told, or had occasion to find out. In any case, one is never aware of one's doppelganger, should one happen to have such a thing, until said doppelganger dies."

"A much different thing, I suspect, from what we mere earth humans refer to when we use that term," Christian murmured.

Roarke met his gaze and nodded. "Indeed it is."

A few beats passed before Rogan grunted and pushed himself to his feet. "Well, then, if there's no more to be said, then I suppose I'd best get to doin' those rounds ye used to assign to Leslie. Och, uncle, it's a wonder she doesn't complain her head off. This is make-work, y'know. If she knew what ye were really doin' to keep her employed here, she'd be on strike faster'n ye could say 'Welcome to Fantasy Island'." He winked at Leslie and strolled out of the house.

"That...that _Irishman,"_ Leslie grumbled, staring after him. "I can never tell when he's teasing. Is that how he really feels, or was it just for my benefit?"

Roarke laughed. "He has made his share of complaints, but he seems to understand at the same time that this is necessary. Learning the business from the ground up, as I believe the saying goes. In any case, Leslie, Rogan has usurped your position quite long enough, and I've informed him that he'll begin training in my own job this very weekend. If you believe you can work around Anastasia's feeding and sleeping schedule, you may resume your usual duties here next weekend."

"I'll make it work," Leslie said fervently, her whole face alight. "Oh Father, thank you. Now I know I'm really home." She jumped to her feet and hugged him, and Christian looked on with a slightly preoccupied smile. Roarke, glancing at him over his daughter's shoulder, knew instantly that there was much more going on between Christian and Leslie than perhaps even they themselves realized.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § - June 2, 2009

As she did every year, Mariki baked up a cake from scratch with all natural ingredients for the triplets' fifth birthday; all three of them were hyper with excitement, armed as they were with the knowledge that they would be starting kindergarten that fall in the elementary school located on the eastern end of the island, and happy that they'd be going with their friends and making new ones. For the adults it was a more poignant occasion, and Leslie wondered if every special day from now till next January would be haunted by that ever-hovering knowledge that this would be the last one of its kind they would share with Roarke. None of them had told the triplets yet, not even Roarke; they had debated doing so, but in the end had decided against it until much closer to the deadline.

It was a Tuesday night, so the main-house clearing had been free for them to use as it usually was, and the gathering split into distinct groups, as it always seemed to do. Rogan and Julie had also been invited to the party along with Rory and Lucan, who had picked up a stunning amount of English. The children chased each other around the fountain in the lane or played tag or tried to catch fireflies; the men grouped around the long table that had held the cake, ice cream, beverages and gifts, talking sports, jobs, and other items of male interest; and the women crowded around the same umbrella-shaded table, all of them intent on Leslie as the crickets began their endless, noisy, cheery serenade and a few night criers set up their mournful calls. Anastasia slept in a baby carrier atop their table; Tabitha's Tadeo did the same, though he was at the men's table where there was more room.

"So," said Camille with interest. "Anastasia what, now?"

"Anastasia Gabriella Julia Martina," Leslie said, in chorus with Michiko and Tabitha, which made them all laugh. "Gabriella is for Christian's niece, of course, and the others are for his grandmothers. Julia was his father's mother, and Martina was his mother's mother. As for Anastasia, I just liked the name."

"Great choices," said Lauren. "Now that we've mentioned the baby, let's move on to this business about Mr. Roarke retiring. Michiko told us all about it when she came back home, but nobody knows why. How's this going to affect the island?"

"As a whole? Good question," said Leslie. "I think really it's up to each individual. Not that we've discussed this in much depth, but I have no idea what Rogan's going to change and what he'll keep the way it is. I have my job back for now, and Father and Rogan are doing a sort of 'co-host' thing right now, but eventually Rogan'll know whatever he needs to know and Father will step aside entirely. He said something about starting Rory's training right away. By the time Father's, uh, gone and Rogan's in full charge, Rory'll be ten, and I don't know if that means he's going to put Rory in my position, or what."

"There shouldn't be any reason you'd have to give up your job, Leslie," said Myeko. "I don't see why you'd need to. Why would Rogan throw you out?"

Leslie shrugged uneasily. "I don't know. It's only that...well, Father told us I'll be the owner of the island when he's gone, and that would be a little weird...the owner being the assistant. But what else can I do? I can't do Father's job, and I also don't know the first thing about the basic running of the island. You know, the stuff that boils down to governmental functions. Which reminds me." She turned to Maureen. "Father may call Grady at some point and ask him how he feels about handling legal matters—sort of like a judgeship, I guess. I just thought I'd give you a heads-up on that."

Maureen's green eyes had gone wide. "Wow. Is it okay if I tell Grady?"

"Sure, if Christian hasn't done it already. There's a lot of other stuff we have to work out as well, but there's still enough time that we can let inspiration guide us on this. And look, you're all welcome to help if something occurs to you. The more brains we have working on all this, the better."

Julie was drumming her fingers on the table, and they looked at her. "Since you're married to Rogan," said Camille, "do you have any clue what his plans are?"

Julie blinked and looked up. "You know something? I don't think even Rogan knows what his plans are. We're still shocked. I keep wondering what's going to happen to all the islanders. Uncle's been here for decades...geez, more than a century, I think. But I really don't think Rogan's going to change much. I'm sure he'll leave everything possible the way it is right now."

"What about the main house? Is he going to shut that down? Use it as just an office building? Move into it?" Leslie said, her anxiety so strong that her voice reeked of it and her friends looked at one another. "And is he going to need an assistant?"

"Rory's still too young," said Lauren, not unkindly.

"I know that," said Julie with a touch of impatience. "Besides, he has school to worry about. I'm not gonna have him relying on the MacNabb magic to get his homework done—that'd be cheating. He has to get his education the right way. And who ever heard of putting a ten-year-old to work, even on weekends?"

"History would tell you differently," Michiko observed. "Only a century ago, children routinely worked in all kinds of sweatshops for a few pennies a day. This wouldn't hurt Rory a bit, Julie. It's easy, it's fun, it's not slave labor, and he'd get a whole additional education on top of the traditional one. If Rogan wants to groom Rory to take over for him eventually, then he could also learn what the assistant does to keep things going behind the scenes while his dad's doing all the glamorous stuff."

"He could just as easily assign Rory all Leslie's duties once he learns them, and put Leslie right back out of a job," said Julie pointedly. "I'm sure you don't want that. Rogan mentioned in passing the other day that he's heard there's a chance she and Christian could end up moving back to his country if she doesn't have a job here."

The shock was almost tangible, and Leslie swallowed hard at sight of the horrified faces gaping at her. "You'd move to Lilla Jordsö?" Myeko finally blurted.

"You are nearly so famous as Mr. Roarke. You cannot leave this island," said Katsumi, her impossibly pretty face filling with sorrow. "You are first friend I have here. Haruko misses triplets already so much, she would be so sad if you go away forever."

"Just when we thought we'd be next-door neighbors for the next forty years," mused Michiko, sighing. "I know you two had brought it up, but I thought it was theoretical."

"If you do move, what on earth will you do over there?" Maureen asked.

"I don't know if we're actually going to do it," Leslie said, annoyed to find that her eyes were stinging, warning her of coming tears. "Believe me, it's not my first choice. If it were up to me, I'd stay here. But with Father going...I don't know. This island and everything associated with it is tied in so completely with him, I don't think I could go anywhere and not grieve over his absence when it happens. I couldn't even wake up in the morning and not remember. The only reason I had the privilege of growing up here is that he was obligated to fulfill my mother's fantasy, and he was kind and generous enough to include me in all the weekend activities. And that was almost from the day I arrived here. Now I can't fathom the idea of living here without being involved in the fantasy-granting business, and that won't be the same either."

"Rogan doesn't even want this position," Julie protested, as if Leslie had attacked her. "He'd rather be in the greenhouse, you know that."

"I do know it, Julie, and I'm not blaming Rogan. Neither he nor Father is responsible for all this—it's that stupid damn tribunal. If they had even an ounce of corporeality to them, I'd grab the nearest shovel and bash their heads in with it. But I was told several times that Rogan's the only choice right now; Rory has the ability but not the training or the self-discipline. Rogan will have to fill in for him till he develops those—and it might be a lot harder since Rory has not only the Roarke clan abilities, but the MacNabb powers too. It makes him practically omnipotent. Nobody knows when Rory will be deemed old enough, or mature enough, to take over for Rogan, and we all know that. When a kid has that kind of power, it's much, much harder to imprint the concept of right and wrong into his head. I'm not passing judgment on your parenting; I'm just saying that it's a bigger challenge. In any case, even if Rogan did need an assistant and agreed to keep me on till he's ready to step aside, that'd still be...what, ten, twelve years at the most? And I don't know if Rogan will need, or even want, an assistant. He might prefer to work alone."

"Well," Julie admitted reluctantly, only barely able to meet Leslie's gaze, "he does tend to be a loner...he never hired any help for the greenhouse at least."

Leslie flipped her palms skyward. "Well, there, you see?"

"But Leslie, there's no reason you couldn't stay on the island even if you're not involved with the fantasy-granting part," Lauren protested. "There must be something you can do. Even if you're not sure about how to run the island or anything...I mean..." She floundered, then blew out a breath. "But I guess you'd have to want to."

"I would," said Leslie with a wistful smile, "but I don't qualify for too much. Christian and his family have been over it with me, but nothing can change the fact that this is the only job I have any qualifications for."

"Who says?" Tabitha broke in at that point. "Now that Tadeo's here, I can finally go ahead with my cat-shelter plans. In fact, I have it all drawn up and I've even been able to line up a vet and a building, and some of Fernando's patients in the fishing village have agreed to volunteer there for me. You could be the administrative person there, Leslie."

"Hey, that sounds great," said Maureen, lighting up.

Camille cleared her throat. "Tabitha, maybe you could use co-administrators? With David working and Craig and Robin both in school, I'm kind of feeling like it's time I put that college degree to use finally. I mean, it's been sitting there for over twenty years."

"It wouldn't pay very much," Tabitha said doubtfully. "Anyway, it's not just an admin I need, it's a fund-raising person too. Somebody to solicit donations of both money and goods, like medicines and food and blankets and kitty litter, and things like that."

"I'd go for the fund-raising bit," Camille agreed, grinning. "That sounds like it's right up my alley. And Leslie, you'd be great for the front desk."

"But you'd have to have someone else doing that while I'm still working for Father," said Leslie, biting her lip. "It wouldn't be very fair for me to come waltzing in and usurping someone else's job the minute I lost this one again."

"You don't even know you're going to lose it yet, for Pete's sake," Myeko said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Leslie, stop being so negative. You keep making it sound like you don't have any other choice."

Julie peered at Tabitha. "How soon are you opening the shelter? You'd need an admin right off the bat, wouldn't you? You might be better off going ahead with someone else, if you're about ready to open. You talked to uncle already, right?"

Tabitha nodded. "Just last weekend actually. But it only just occurred to me about the admin..." She turned red and said helplessly, "I'm sorry, Leslie, I thought it'd be perfect for you. I just wanted to help."

"I know," Leslie said softly. "Thanks for trying."

"You'll have to talk to Rogan," said Maureen, reaching over to pat Leslie's hand. "I don't think you can make any long-term plans till you find out what he intends to do."

"Suppose—just for the sake of argument—suppose Rogan decides he can't use an assistant," said Julie, glancing around at the younger women's faces. "What then?"

"Then Christian and I would have to decide whether we stay here or move to Lilla Jordsö," Leslie said through a sigh.

The girls looked at one another, and Myeko scowled. "Oh, geez. Unbelievable. It wouldn't be the same here without you, Leslie. We found that out these past few months when you had to wait over there till you had Anastasia. I mean, sure, we have e-mail, but that's not the same."

Leslie grinned crookedly. "Who wants to make the move with us, then?" Her voice came out with such sarcasm that they all broke into laughter, even Julie.

Michiko cleared her throat when it had subsided. "Well, I could always move back to Arcolos. My spoiled little daughter would finally get the last word on me, and you'd have someone at least within a few hours' flight to visit now and then."

"Oh, seriously—after you had that pretty house built and everything? What on earth would Grady and I do then? Talk about living in a deserted neighborhood!" Maureen exclaimed. "I don't see you offering up those houses as suitable venues for fantasies, either."

"Why not?" Michiko said, grinning. "It'd be a great source of extra income. We could just set a going rate with Rogan and wait for the rental money to roll in."

"You're just whistling past the graveyard here, aren't you?" Lauren said, rolling her eyes despite her amusement. "Geez, I don't know. The rest of us here are natives. All our parents are here on the island and most of our siblings. And even if we wanted to move to Lilla Jordsö, nobody here speaks Christian's language except Christian...well, and the triplets, and maybe you, Leslie, sort of."

"I'm not asking you to move, you know that," Leslie said, rolling her own eyes right back. "It's just that if we did..." She sighed. "But I don't know what I'd do with myself if we stayed. Some of Christian's family has made it clear they'd be overjoyed if we decided to move back. We even talked about it a little, and Liselotta—Christian's oldest nephew's wife—said maybe I could be the English tutor for the kids."

Her friends looked at one another. "So what it really is," Maureen summarized, "is a case of which options make more sense to you. If Rogan doesn't need an assistant, it's 'to move or not to move?' Wow, Leslie, no wonder you're so full of angst."

"Angst and terror," Leslie admitted, sighing. "I wish there were some way I could just tell my stupid brain to lay off this whole thing at least for the summer and fall. We still have a good six months of the way things have always been."

"When do you plan to ask Rogan about the assistant?" Julie asked.

"I don't know," said Leslie. "If Rogan has no idea yet whether he thinks he'll need one, there's not much point in asking right now anyway. So I guess I'm in limbo."

"Well, if you decide to put off worrying till December—which I for one think you really should—then we'll all help out. Everything will be just the way it's supposed to be. Our kids will still play together, we'll still hang out, we'll still ask you about the fantasies all the time like the buttinskies we are..." Myeko's words brought on laughter. "At least we can give you one more normal summer on Fantasy Island. So for now, let's just kick this whole depressing subject to the curb and go on like we always have. We know all we need to know for now, and you've made all the decisions you have to for now. So let's spend the rest of the evening, and the rest of this year, hanging out together." She grinned.

Leslie smiled at all of them, feeling a little scared, a little sad, but a lot hopeful. "That sounds great to me. Let the normal summer and fall commence."

* * *

_One normal summer and fall, coming up... Keep watching for alerts, or just keep your eye on this category. Thanks as always for your readership and reviews!_


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